Persuasion
by Epmanagram
Summary: Gibbs finds himself thinking about quitting his job, and things get quite, well, hinky. Will get interesting in future chapters, I promise.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Gibbs always went with his gut. Week after week, case after case, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs always caught the bad guy, whether it was through force or some odd, silent form of psychological torture that involved a very demoralizing stare. But this time, for the first time in years, Agent Gibbs found himself in, oddly enough, danger. Now, it wasn't uncommon for him to be held at gunpoint once in a while, but this was flat-out mortal peril. Handcuffed and chained to a sunken ship at the bottom of the ocean kind of mortal peril. So, without backup, but with a horrible feeling in his infamous gut, Gibbs stormed the streets of Washington D.C.

The night air was cool against his face as his feet, heavy with fatigue, slapped the sidewalk. As opposed to his usual calm and collected demeanor, Gibbs was acting strangely agitated, like the times when he's just about to close a really dramatic case, and the suspect's not cooperating. His pace quickened, and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Across the street stood a familiar looking woman, with her back to him, talking on a cell phone. Immediately his breath hitched in his throat and he ducked into an alleyway.

Lurking out of sight, Gibbs observed as the woman walked along and entered a car parked near a long since closed bakery, her distinguishing silver hair catching his attention in the glow of the streetlamp. Slinking along the walls of the city, so as not to be seen, he made his way towards the parked car. And just as he felt the time was right, Gibbs approached the vehicle and took a blatant look inside at the woman in the driver's seat. Confused warm brown eyes stared back at him, and he instantly let his guard down, for the moment. It wasn't her. Giving himself a mental head slap, he nodded to the woman in the car and continued on his way. As he covered more distance, Gibbs' nervousness reared its ugly head once again as he caught a glimpse of himself in a reflective store window.

His blue eyes, usually penetrating and hard, were worn and red with the hours of sleepless nights, bags fully formed beneath them. His hair was a wreck, and badly needed a wash, as did his over-worn outfit. Overall, Gibbs looked more like a haphazard drunk than a distinguished federal agent. His appearance surprised himself, but he thought he actually looked pretty good for a man who spent the last three days being chased around, well, everywhere by a psychopath who seemed like she was almost better than him at playing the game. Almost.

Retrieving his phone from his pocket, he cautiously turned it on, knowing that it was a major risk in the era where a murder can be convicted by a single technologically traced phone call. Gibbs looked through his missed calls which rounded out for a grand total of twenty-seven since Monday. Of course they were worried about him. He knew from the beginning that they would be. It hurt him not to be able to contact his team, but he knew that for their safety, it was imperative that he remained relatively undetectable. Donning his cloak of invisibility once more, he turned off the cell phone.

His gut told him to keep going, but exhaustion was getting the best of him. He slumped down next to some empty crates and tried to do some major thinking. He loved his team. Really, he did. It was just that in recent days, he had been finding that things had been changing.

At the beginning of their fusion at NCIS, Gibbs was the backbone of his team; they could do nothing without him. They were all so young and unsure of themselves at the time, and like any good surrogate father would, he always saw past their sometimes masquerading attitudes and supported them in whatever problems they faced. But years had passed, and the kids, for lack of a better phrase, grew up. His agents were not the insecure little teenagers they once were. He knew that they could handle whatever life threw their way, and that the inevitable day would soon come for them to fly the nest. It seemed, nowadays, that things might function just fine without Papa Gibbs.

So, tired and somewhat delirious, Gibbs remembered his team. The stakeouts, the long hours of paperwork and puzzling over soldiers, questionable wives, so-called business partners, and the occasional child were all in good fun, or work. However, he was feeling that he overshot the mark a little bit, like he should have quit while he was on top of his game. Maybe it was the coffee, the politics, or the aching knees, but Mexico was looking friendlier and friendlier every day.

It might have been the weariness, or the fact that a dose of poison was slipped in his drink this morning, but Agent Gibbs unavoidably fell into a deep sleep with familiar words like "On your six, boss," and "These abrasions were done post-mortem, Jethro," still buzzing about his brain.


	2. Chapter 2

****All belongs to CBS. The day I own NCIS, elephants will grow wings. *** This will get more interesting, I promise. My idea is to have Gibbs experience a very peculiar dream while he is sick... sort of an alternate universe...? Well, I'm still sorting things out, but it will turn out awesome! (I hope.) Until then, reviews are greatly appreciated. Much Love and head slaps, R. **

_Chapter 2_

Forensic Specialist Extraordinaire Abigail Sciuto was aroused by an anticipated dinging sound. "My babies!"

Immediately, the tired woman began clicking furiously on her computers, trying to make sense of what they were telling her. With a gasp, Abby ran into her office, dragging out her partner.

"What is it, Abby," yawned McGee, forcing his heavy eyelids to open.

"It's Gibbs!" Suddenly, Agent McGee was ready to go, expecting a glare from his boss at any moment, but when he remembered why he had fallen asleep in Abby's Lab in the first place, he felt his stomach tie in knots. "Go get Tony and Ziva!"

In the squadroom, Agent DiNozzo was astonishingly awake, and he stared across the room awkwardly at his sleeping partner, whose head was slumped against her desk.

"Are you actually awake?" asked McGee.

"Couldn't sleep. What's going on? Did you get something?"

"It's Gibbs!" repeated the excited Abby, who proceeded to drag Ziva into the elevator. The four went down to her lab, where the computer screen flashed a hopeful sign.

"He turned his phone on!" exclaimed McGee. Without delay, he typed away, frantically trying to pinpoint his boss' location. The other three looked on in eagerness and expectation.

"Hurry up, Probie!" said an irritable Tony.

"I'm going as fast as I can, DiNozzo." The tension reached a high point, but was quickly dissipated by a sad and frustrated groan from Abby. On the screen, the message indicated that Gibbs' signal had been lost. The phone had not been traceable for even three minutes, and the team was losing hope that they would soon find their leader.

"Damn!" Tony slapped the desk.

"Tony!" Abby warned. "I know you're tired, and we're all tired, but we can't get upset. This is Gibbs we're talking about. I'm sure he's fine." And this remark was as much to boost her morale as anyone else's.

"It's been almost four days."

"Abby is probably right, Tony. This wouldn't be the first time Gibbs left us in the dark," mentioned Ziva.

"But this time we actually know that something bad is going to happen if we don't do something." Very Special and very exhausted Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was in one of his moods. The ones where he sheds his outer layers of confusion and resorts to his rock-hard instincts, usually fueled by some negative emotions. He looked as tired as any of them, with the messy hair, baggy eyes, and a few pizza stains on his white shirt.

"Or has already happened," said McGee, earning three troubled glares. "Sorry." He closed his mouth, feeling and looking rather stupid.

At that moment, the four could feel the presence of another and wheeled around to find the daunting figure of Director Vance staring at them with his usual authoritative glance.

"Director?" Ziva ventured.

"We found Gibbs." The team breathed a long sigh of relief. "Gear up. He was in an alleyway off of 6th Street. And I'd hurry along."

"He's not..." Abby's eyes turned to saucers. When the team was normally called in the middle of the night to an alleyway to meet a found missing person, it was usually because they were dead.

"No. But close to it. You'll need to take care of the crime scene, then meet him at the hospital. He's already on his way." Vance gave a curt nod, then exited without another word.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Go!" Abby practically screamed. She pushed the three field agents out the door as she grabbed the keys to her hearse.

Tony, Ziva, and McGee did a quick job at the crime scene, which produced only a few samples of strange fluids, and a used washcloth. After, they made their way to the hospital. And with no complaints, Ziva drove. Fast.

The "Family of Leroy Jethro Gibbs" soon arrived at his hospital room, and waited outside, peering in at the window.

"Oh, boss," Tony whispered. Gibbs looked a mess. His hair was matted with sweat, his face was cut up, and there must have been about six tubes poking into his skin, and one that Tony knew was for breathing. "Now I remember why I hate hospitals." Just then a pretty nurse walked into the room to check Gibbs' vitals. "I really hate hospitals."

Abby anxiously checked with orderlies, doctors, anyone she could ask about Gibbs' condition. She came by the others and said, "Gibbs is in a coma," and then added, "again."

And it was with heavy hearts that the team looked in at their leader, their father, and wondered what the consequences would be this time.


End file.
